Useless
by Shadow Fox's dreams
Summary: After Hawkeye called him useless when it rained. He couldn’t help it, he feel hurt by her word. He decides he wouldn’t be useless anymore.


Title: **Useless**

Summary: After Hawkeye called him useless when it rained. He couldn't help it, he feel hurt by her word. He decides he wouldn't be useless anymore.

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang stood where he first wanted to battle Scar, where his loyal friend and subordinate, Riza Hawkeye stopped him, where she called him a useless. Hurt raced thought him as her words echoed thought his mind and sole.

_Useless in the rain._

He stood in the rain watching where Scar escaped, his clothes and white gloves was already fully soaked thought by water, and his hair was plastid to his head. He could not do it, he failed, he was useless. His dark eyes stared to nothing. Pain eating thought his sole.

He promised, he promised to himself, to his subordinates, to his friends he would protect them. But he failed again. What would have happened if Scar didn't chose to run if he chose to fight and destroy the ones who opposed him? Roy wouldn't be able to stop him, to protect what he needed to protect. Riza words echoed thought his brain, like shockwaves.

_You're useless._

He clenched his hands as hard as he could, even thought his gloves he could feel as his nails pressing into his palm. He needed to do something he needed to prove he wasn't useless, no, not anymore. He needed to keep his promises, he needed to protect them, all of them, he needed… he needed to be useful.

He heard someone calling his name, he took a last look at the spot where Scar disappeared, before turning around and walking away.

---------------- 2 weeks later ---------

Roy stood in the shower, his clothes clammy from the spraying water, his gloves was soaked by the water from the shower as well as sweet. His body trembled from the effort. _Just one more time. _He promised his exhausted body. He blinked his tried eyes open and concentrated. He felt as the oxygen gather around his fingers, sweet dripped from his brow. He snapped his fingers. A tiny spark flashed up before it disappeared like it never was there.

Roy's leg bucked under him, he fallen to his knees. "No!" He screamed in rage, he was so close, so close this time. Black drops danced before his eyes. His vision grayed out on the edges. He shake his head in a desperate attempt to clear his mind.

"No! Just one more time." He mumbled, he gathered the oxygen, concentrated it, more and more. He snapped his fingers, he felt like his body was on fire, a small flame came to life before it was washed away. A small sinister smile appeared on his pale face before his eyes closed as he lost his battle with consciousness.

----------------

His frame shocked, his body trembled. He felt he was in fire and despite that he was cold. He frowned cold water plashed to his face, his clothes was soaked, heavy with cold water. His skin on the other hand felt extremely hot, his fingers felt row, like they were burnt. He frowned and opened his eyes.

Roy was lying on his shower's floor. He pulled himself up, his body protest with every turn. He turned his gaze to his fingers. A memory flashed thought his mind. It worked. He made fire. He could do it..

He heard his alarm clock's noise from the other room. He needed to go to work. He stood and pulled off his clothes.

As he pulled up his trouser he noticed it didn't fit well anymore. He frowned and pulled out a belt from his wardrobe. It would do.

------------ A week later -----------

Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist stepped inside the shower stall, the water soaked thought his clothes. He stood there for a minuet before he felt he was soaking wet. He placed before two chairs in the bathroom as a target. He was ready: he snapped his fingers, flames erupted the chairs disowned to nothingness as soon as the flames reached it.

Roy's body trembled from the effort it took to make the fire. He felt good; maybe he wasn't useless any more. It was worth it, worth the pain and suffering his body went thought. He lost good 15 kilos, but it was worth it, he needed the fuel for his flame, he needed it. If he couldn't start the fire because of the wet air around him, then he would use something else.

He was not useless anymore.

Wasn't useless.

A small part of him cheered as his body gives up on him, darkness clamed him.

* * *

Tell me what you think? Liked it? Sorry for the garmmar. 


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